


Anemone

by captainhoothoot



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou Friendship, Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou are Bros, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flowers, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kenma's name appears once, Kuroo Tetsurou is a Good Friend, M/M, Mentioned Kuroo Tetsurou, Poetic, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, anemone - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-21 01:31:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14905928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhoothoot/pseuds/captainhoothoot
Summary: Meaning of ‘Anemone’: Forsaken or forgotten love and affection. Anticipation and excitement for something in the future.“Every flower must go through dirt. Where flowers bloom, so does hope.”By the dark fireplace, a figure sat. Curled into a mess of bones. Two hundred and six.  Empty. Hollow. Void. Zero. A shell of a man dominated by a profound silence; fatigue engraved on worn canvas; fire burnt out. The sadness was his albatross. Death by a thousand paper cuts.  A sensation of helplessness, as if it were utterly impossible to go on living.Slender digits grazed thick, succulent petals. Full of life, color and hope. Something he would never have. Something he would never be. How he longed- yearned, to blossom. Five, six, seven, eight. Eight. A practiced smile graced delicate features. His wandering touch came to a starling halt. They quivered. Dull orbs met his- into the far distance, unseeing but fixed on an imaginary bubble of happiness. Feigned nonchalance.Lifeless eyes. It was as plain as the day. It was nothing compared to the single flower that lay in its honorable glory. Against ashen complexion, a twisted embrace- it withered. Zero.





	Anemone

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written in ages (༎ຶ⌑༎ຶ) I really wanted to try writing something with angst for once (I have never quite written this genre before, forgive me if it sucks) 6and write it in a slightly different manner- something more poetic (hopefully). I know Akaashi always seems like this cool, brash and quiet character but I wanted to portray him differently. I've been through certain things as well and I wanted to pour all that negativity somewhere so it ended up in this fanfic. I hope you enjoy reading this! I have yet to proofread this but I'll do it sometime tomorrow!
> 
> Comments and Kudos are highly appreciated. Do let me know how I can improve! ʕ*ﾉᴥﾉʔ

** Anemone **

 

Meaning of ‘Anemone’: Forsaken or forgotten love and affection. Anticipation and excitement for something in the future.

_“Every flower must go through dirt. Where flowers bloom, so does hope.”_

**Bokuto**

 

By the dark fireplace, a figure sat. Curled into a mess of bones. Two hundred and six.  Empty. Hollow. Void. Zero. A shell of a man dominated by a profound silence; fatigue engraved on worn canvas; fire burnt out. The sadness was his albatross. Death by a thousand paper cuts.  A sensation of helplessness, as if it were utterly impossible to go on living.

“Akaashi-“

 

Slender digits grazed thick, succulent petals. Full of life, color and hope. Something he would never have. _Something he would never be_. How he longed- yearned, to blossom. Five, six, seven, eight. Eight. A practiced smile graced delicate features. His wandering touch came to a starling halt. They quivered. Dull orbs met his- into the far distance, unseeing but fixed on an imaginary bubble of happiness. Feigned nonchalance.

“Akaashi.”

 

Lifeless eyes. It was as plain as the day. It was nothing compared to the single flower that lay in its honorable glory. Against ashen complexion, a twisted embrace- it withered. Zero.

“ _Akaashi_.”

It stung.

 

His eyes welled with tears. They remained empty. Hollow. Void.

“I just wanted to be good enough for someone. I try my hardest. I forgive, regardless. I do everything I can, and do you know the worst bit? Even my best isn’t good enough because everyone just replaces me in the end. “

 

 _Zero_.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

**Akaashi**

 

Akaashi never knew when it first started. When he suddenly stopped smiling- the radiant grin swallowed by nothingness. Perhaps it inaugurated when he first took a picture as a young boy. An adroit little smile, where the tiniest hint of a crescent dented his cheek. ‘How charming,’ His family would so often swoon, deft hands and persistent touches coating, smothering him alive. He knew better. The picture produced was that of complete artificiality. Pretense, insincerity, fatuousness.

 

Akaashi never knew when he first started to feel the rise of bile in his throat. The sudden surge of panic that coursed through his veins. The tears that blurred his vision. Perhaps it was when he met the first person who dared to approach him in high school. Perhaps it was when he finally relented, disclosing the content of his entirety to the first friend he actually made. Perhaps it was when he came to a revolting realization that he was in love. With his captain.

Bokuto Koutarou.

 

 

Akaashi would never forget the day he rose out of bed, clutching onto his sheets, uneven pants wrenched out of his chest. He tugged the silk linens close to his chest. Inhaled. A safety blanket, away from his darkest fears. Exhaled. The familiar rise of bile in his throat. Dread sank deep into the pits of his stomach.

‘How many times has this happened?’ Akaashi mused, a bitter smile tugging on the corners of his lips.

As he sluggishly pulled himself off the bed, his thoughts consumed him once again. A delectable feast. Akaashi washed up quickly, dressed, buttoned his blazer. One, two three, four five. Five. His eyelashes fluttered shut. He was met with momentary darkness. Why was it that no matter how hard he tried to run, he still tripped and fell over, only to hit rock bottom all over again? Why was it that no matter how hard he tried to run, this tidal wave of emotion never failed to swallow him whole only to toss him back to the shore once again? Why was it that no matter how hard he tried to run, he never seemed to get away from himself?

 

Akaashi bit his lip. Opened his eyes. Swallowed hard. It was still there, residing at the very pits of an abyss. It never seemed to stop snowballing, even when he stepped out of his house. An empty shell, where passersby shot him curious glances that only burned and seared. The lump in his throat never seemed to stop growing. Like a bud that continued to blossom and bloom, Akaashi could not see why this had to happen to him, until it all came to a sudden epiphany the day his petals fell.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Hey! You there- Wait up!”

 

Akaashi paused in his tracks. Trembled. Refused to meet the owner of the voice. It was too loud. His fingernails dug into his palms.

 

“Hi. Uhmm.. You dropped something. I’m sorry for yelling. I didn’t mean to scare you off or anything! Oh wait, are you a first year? If so, do you have any intentions to join a club? How about volleyball? I’m the captain! That reminds me, I’m Bokuto Koutarou. What’s your name? Ah... Shit- I’m talking too much again huh?”

 

Akaashi gazed up slowly, uncertain. Anxiety covered him like a thick, choking blanket. He could not move. The sight that greeted him left him reeling in surprise. For one matter, the boy before him was tall. Not taller than him by a few inches, that is. He had an interesting hairstyle, one that resembled an owl. And his eyes- The lump in his throat disappeared for a moment. It came back in full force, even stronger, after a second passed.

 

Akaashi averted his gaze quickly. It was rude to stare and the sickness- his sickness grew. He wanted nothing more than to take flight.

 

“Uhmm… You dropped your- Oh. Your name is Akaashi Keiji? That’s a really pretty name! A second year?“

 

Akaashi glanced up. Felt a blush settle high on his cheeks as he stared at his notebook in the other male’s hands. They looked perfectly slotted between those hands. His gaze travelled further up to thick forearms. Broad shoulders.

‘A wing spiker,’ Akaashi thought.

They looked strong. Sturdy. Dependable. What was this feeling? Akaashi gnawed at his lower lip anxiously, reaching out quickly, to snatch his notebook back.

“Thank you,” Akaashi murmured quietly, noting the beam in Bokuto’s smile before he spun around and strode away hastily.

 

“You’re pretty shy aren’t you? Well, that’s okay! I’m not going to bite you haha,” Bokuto grinned, taking a few strides forward to fall in step with Akaashi, “Could we walk to school together?”

Akaashi panicked. His nails dug deeper into his flesh. He wheezed.

“I.. I don’t…”

Akaashi watched as Bokuto’s face fell. Dread seeped through his bones. His vision blurred. It was a familiar look he had seen throughout his life. From the moment he missed a high distinction off his piano grade when he was six. From the moment he fell into the second place in class in elementary school. From the moment he first realized that he liked boys and came out to his parents along with the boy he first kissed- only to see disgust, horror, and that emotion reflected in their eyes. Disappointment.

 

_Sick._

Akaashi felt sick.

 

“I…I don’t mind.”

 

He knew better. The sentence produced was that of complete artificiality. Pretense, insincerity, fatuousness.

 

Bokuto’s smile returned. It shone brighter than it did before, and it left Akaashi stunned, surprised, sick.

“You’re the best, Akaashi!”

The latter looked away, wiping a stray droplet of perspiration that trickled down his cheek, ignoring the look the taller male gave him.

_He knew better._

 

Akaashi never knew when he first started to feel the rise of bile in his throat. The sudden surge of panic that coursed through his veins. The tears that blurred his vision, threatening to fall. Perhaps it was when he met the first person who dared to approach him in high school.

Bokuto Koutarou.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Akaashi never knew how he ended up growing close to Bokuto, to his sheer dismay. Akaashi never once thought that he would acquire friendship. He always thought that he would lead the life of an outcast, graduate with a diploma in hand, get a job, lead a quiet life and die. Akaashi wondered how it would be if he let go and yielded himself to depravity.

How had he let Bokuto so close? Perhaps it was the result of Bokuto’s sheer dedication and determination to walk with him to school every day. Perhaps it was due to Bokuto’s persistence that ‘No, Akaashi, I want to be your friend! We will have lunch together, and no- I’m totally not skipping my classes. Eat with me. Unless you don’t like me.’ and ‘Stop avoiding me, Akaashi. I’m not the plague. Unless you hate me so much.’ Perhaps it was…

Akaashi knew better.

It was guilt. It was the guilt that built up like a gestating fetus in his heart whenever he saw the flash of disappointment in those golden orbs whenever his feet carried him faster than his words.

 

It was on a Friday evening that Bokuto cornered him before he could turn and run. With Bokuto taking determined strides before him, Akaashi backed away, his stomach heaving unhelpfully. Every footfall felt like a step closer towards his deathbed. The thought of death no longer scared Akaashi. Knuckles whitened, Akaashi teared up when Bokuto stood towering before him.

“Why do you keep running even after I approach you? Do I scare you? Am I too pushy? Are you afraid of me? Do you… Do you hate me so much?” The latter spat out bitterly.

Hurt was laced in his voice, but even more than that, it was disappointment. It was evident in those orbs. Akaashi shut his eyes, refusing to meet Bokuto’s eyes. It was futile. The disappointment that oozed out of his every pore called for guilt to wrap its’ iron grip around Akaashi’s neck. He felt sick. From the moment he missed a high distinction off his piano grade when he was six. From the moment he fell into the second place in class in elementary school. From the moment he first realized that he liked boys and came out to his parents along with the boy he first kissed- only to see disgust, horror, and that emotion reflected in their eyes. Disappointment.

These painful memories came crashing into his gut.

 

Akaashi broke.

 

“I don’t hate you If it’s lunch… Okay.”

 

Bokuto’s face lit up like a child on Christmas. Something about Bokuto’s smile made him feel warm on the inside. At the same time, something dark and sinister twisted in his guts. The lump in his throat grew. He swallowed it down with an air of feigned ignorance.

 

“Don’t make me regret it.”

 

Akaashi knew better. The haughtiness produced was that of complete artificiality. Pretense, insincerity, fatuousness. He was afraid. He was terrified of friendship. He feared the rejection that would come later. He feared the isolation. He feared the departure of someone he grew close to. He was afraid.

 

“Hey…Akaashi. Can I ask why you were so reluctant to befriend me?” Bokuto mumbled sheepishly,” It’s okay if-“

Akaashi blinked. Gazing into Bokuto’s golden orbs, he found something he never saw before. Trust. It made him feel sick. He licked his lips. He tasted bile at the back of his throat.

“I’m afraid.”

 

Bokuto’s mouth snapped shut, lips curling into a thin line. His eyes dimmed. Akaashi felt a desire to run but he faced Bokuto, mustering his courage to speak.

 

“I’m afraid, Bokuto, “Akaashi murmured softly, “We… We fear rejection, want attention, crave affection and dream of perfection. We keep finding better people to be with. People who can provide. I… I have nothing. I am nothing, and it scares me. It scares me. It scares me to trust in someone. To trust in people. It hurts me when the one who promised will never leave, go, and the ones who say they will always be there, were never really there.”

 

Akaashi’s eyelashes fluttered close. Dexterous fingers wrapped around his wrist gently. He met golden orbs. There was no darkness in them. Only light.

Akaashi never knew when he first started to feel the rise of bile in his throat. The sudden surge of panic that coursed through his veins. The tears that blurred his vision. Perhaps it was when he finally relented, disclosing the content of his entirety to the first friend he actually made.

Bokuto Koutarou.

 

As he relished in the warmth that radiated out of Bokuto’s palms, a quiver went down his spine when the latter leant in and engulfed him into an embrace. No words were needed. Clutching onto Bokuto’s uniform, he relished in the warmth of the tears that rolled down his cheeks like rivulets. He inhaled. A safety blanket. He exhaled. The familiar rise of bile in his throat.

 

The lump in his throat- the bud blossomed and bloomed.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Akaashi ended up growing close to Bokuto. They walked to school, ate lunch together, studied together and spent time together. With each passing day spent with the latter, Akaashi’s defences fell. Bokuto was someone completely different from his expectations. Sure, he was an airhead, an owl enthusiast and a clumsy brute, but he was also a very good listener. As Akaashi unraveled a few stories and sought refuge in Bokuto’s presence, the darkness he had feared, gradually seeped out of his life. A new-found distraction.  A friend.

 

Akaashi joined the volleyball club. Fukurodani Volleyball Club. He did not know how it happened. It only came to his consensus after a petulant Bokuto dragged him from his homeroom, to the volleyball courts and stared him down with an intensity that made Akaashi burn for a reason he could not quite string with words alone.

“Akaashi! How come you didn’t tell me that you used to play?” Bokuto whined, huffing as his grasped Akaashi’s shoulders.

Akaashi froze. Blurred faces came back to his mind. They haunted him. Dread seeped through his bones. His vision blurred. The dread was like an invisible demon that sat heavily on his shoulders and only he could hear the sharpening of knives. A thousand paper cuts.

“Akaashi- how could you…”

 

Akaashi ran, only to be pulled back by a warm embrace.

 

“You’re doing it again.”

 

“I… Volleyball hurt me,” Akaashi murmured quietly,” And I’ll never be the same again.”

Bokuto reeled back. Something flashed in those eyes. Akaashi looked away, nails digging into the flesh of his palm.

 

“I- shit, I’m- I’m sorry-“

 

“Don’t be.”

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bokuto never brought it up again. Instead he spent his time alongside Akaashi, begging for toss after toss.

 

“Akaashi, send me that toss!”

Akaashi glanced at the first friend he ever made, felt his body move in autopilot. Watched Bokuto spread his wings, and fly. A tiny smile spread across his lips. He marveled at the way Bokuto’s back bent like a bow- tense, tense, _tense_ , only to unravel those strong muscles- outstretch and slam the ball across the court.

A straight.

A point.

A win.

 

A rush of adrenaline thumped in his veins. Pride. He gazed on fondly as Bokuto cheered, running to ruffle his teammates’ hair. Komi, Konoha- Something sinister slithered and coiled around his heart. Akaashi tore his eyes from the sight of Bokuto giving Konoha a tight embrace. It was jealousy, and it hit Akaashi harder than it should. He swallowed.

The lump in his throat- the bud had blossomed and bloomed. Its petals fell.

 

You see- that was the thing about jealousy and the sudden realization that he had fallen. It gnawed at his insides, raked its nails across his heart. And he Akaashi knew the only way out.

 

He ran.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

**Bokuto**

 

If there was one thing Bokuto came to realize about Akaashi after he befriended him, it was none other than how he observed after a series of occasions, that there was something not quite right about Akaashi. It was off-putting, a concern and Bokuto was worried. Something about Akaashi was simply wrong. Now he did not mean to put it in any offensive manner but something- Bokuto could not quite put a finger on it; something about the beautiful boy with emerald eyes, dark, curly hair and porcelain skin was off.

There was just something queer in the way Akaashi jolted or trembled when his voice turned a notch too loud. The tremor that raked across the younger male’s body when his gaze lingered on him a tad too long. The shift in stature when a group of men walked by. How he slouched forward, hung his head low, eyes downcast, fingers balled into quivering fists. How he avoided all topics about himself and ran away time and again. It was unnerving, to say the least, but Bokuto liked the boy far more than that, and his desire to stop the trembling and get to know Akaashi even better, was absolute.

 

After the last volleyball match, it had been months since he had last seen him- his setter, his friend and someone he felt a desperate need to protect for some reason. Something was wrong. Why was Akaashi avoiding him? Had he done something wrong? Something to offend him in the last match? Something did not feel quite right. Bokuto recalled the things Akaashi had murmured before.

 

_“I’m afraid, Bokuto.”_

_“We… We fear rejection, want attention, crave affection and dream of perfection. We keep finding better people to be with. People who can provide. I… I have nothing. I am nothing, and it scares me. It scares me. It scares me to trust in someone. To trust in people. It hurts me when the one who promised will never leave, go, and the ones who say they will always be there, were never really there.”_

_“I… Volleyball hurt me, and I’ll never be the same again.”_

Something was definitely not right now that he thought about it. Was Akaashi depressed? Or was he simply stricken with anxiety- his actions spoke for themselves. Bokuto had read stuff like this online but he could not be too sure.  He had to ask someone about it before he lost all sense of reason and just dash his way to Akaashi’s house. Sure, it had hurt him initially, when the former avoided him and it had hurt even worse when he found that Akaashi had cut all ties with him for no rhyme or reason. It had taken some time to get Akaashi’s address from Konoha but something had to be the main reason why Akaashi was avoiding him like a plague and Bokuto was determined to bring Akaashi back, wherever he was. He needed some form of advice beforehand though, and that was how a frazzled, worried and anxious Bokuto came barreling his way to his best friend’s house.

 

 

“Hey Bro,” Bokuto uttered nervously, shifting in his seat.

 

Kuroo raised an eyebrow, gaze shifting from his book to meet Bokuto’s. Bokuto licked his lips. Kuroo hummed. Lips pursed and gaze ever knowing, he placed the book by his side gingerly. He stood and moved towards Bokuto.

 

“Spill the beans, Bokuto.”

 

Bokuto sighed, raking a hand through his waxed hair. He offered a nervous smile.

 

“Shouldn’t you be saying let the cat out of the bag in your case, Kuroo?”

 

“…… Boku-“

 

“Remember Akaashi, Kuroo? You know that amazing setter in Fukurodani who just disappeared? I’ve been meaning to ask you this but…”

 

 

There was an unmistakable hitch of a breath. Bokuto stared at Kuroo.

 

“There’s something… Off about him and I don’t know why but he’s been avoiding me for months since we became friends since the last volleyball match. It’s sort of like Kenma but Akaashi is way more… Anxious and I honestly thought there was something between us. Friendship, trust but-“

 

“Yeah. I noticed last training camp. He was really defensive and guarded. He’s not like Kenma though.”

 

Something flickered in Kuroo’s eyes. Caution.

 

“Bokuto… I hate to say this but I’ve heard rumors. Rumors of a volleyball team ganging up on an elementary schoolboy and I’m not sure if I can say this but… From what you’ve shared, Akaashi has signs of PTSD of… something that should have never happened,” Kuroo exhaled heavily,” I don’t know how to put this. I can tell you care for him a lot. Have you gone to see him perhaps? I think you deserve answers for being brushed aside so suddenly without any rhyme or reason. I know you’ve been hurting.”

Bokuto took in Kuroo’s word silently, a grim smile set on his face. Bokuto was no genius, but he was also no idiot. He had a general idea of where this was going and disgust pooled in his stomach. His fingers curled into fists. The disgust morphed into pure anger and rage.

 

 

_“I’m afraid, Bokuto.”_

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

**Bokuto**

Bokuto was not too sure how it was possible for Akaashi to stay so far off in the midst of nowhere but he had dashed out of Kuroo’s house the moment that anger and fury coursing through his veins died. He did not know what to expect as he braved the chilly air, running down the uneven tracks that led to Akaashi’s house. The pieces of the puzzle had somehow formed together in the midst of his run but it was missing the end, and he refused to believe anything until he heard it from Akaashi’s mouth. Knocking on the flimsy wooden door as he panted, taking short puffs of air, his hand stilled when the door creaked open by itself. 

Uncertainty. Fear. Worry.

 

“Akaashi.”

 

A quiet sob.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

By the dark fireplace, a figure sat. Curled into a mess of bones. Two hundred and six.  Empty. Hollow. Void. Zero. A shell of a man dominated by a profound silence; fatigue engraved on worn canvas; fire burnt out. The sadness was his albatross. Death by a thousand paper cuts.  A sensation of helplessness, as if it were utterly impossible to go on living.

“Akaashi-“

 

Slender digits grazed thick, succulent petals. Full of life, color and hope. Something he would never have. _Something he would never be_. How he longed- yearned, to blossom. Five, six, seven, eight. Eight. A practiced smile graced delicate features. His wandering touch came to a starling halt. They quivered. Dull orbs met his- into the far distance, unseeing but fixed on an imaginary bubble of happiness. Feigned nonchalance.

“Akaashi.”

 

Lifeless eyes. It was as plain as the day. It was nothing compared to the single flower that lay in its honorable glory. Against ashen complexion, a twisted embrace- it withered. Zero.

“ _Akaashi_.”

It stung.

 

His eyes welled with tears. They remained empty. Hollow. Void.

“I just wanted to be good enough for someone. I try my hardest. I forgive, regardless. I do everything I can, and do you know the worst bit? Even my best isn’t good enough because everyone just replaces me in the end. “

 

 _Zero_.

 

“Akaashi.”

 

Akaashi met Bokuto’s eyes for the first time in months.

 

“Say, Bokuto, would like to hear a story?”

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“There was once a young boy who grew in a loving home, except it was just four walls, a deceptive place where monsters roamed. They expected the very best, anything below fell short and when he first missed the mark, it was a fail on his test. It was inked red, as fresh as the blood that rushed to his cheeks. Humiliation. At six. Then came the  moment this boy slipped down a grade, lost his honor and he was inked yet again. Marked as a failure. His flesh became a canvas. Red, hot, fresh. He spent his time alone, studied for the first friend he made had left for another. Then came another. This time a handsome lad who provided companionship and promised he would never leave. That liar. Can you imagine the horror and the dread at his teens, when this boy first realized that he liked boys, and came out to his parents? He had brought along the boy he first kissed, his first friend who hadn’t left- the volleyball member, only to see disgust, horror, and that emotion reflected in those eyes. Of his parents. Disappointment. Humiliation. His boyfriend then who’d been all so tender, had instigated a new activity. The flower that had been blooming withered. He was bared in school, portrayed as a doll because of his looks. Put to display in front of the club, where hands of people he thought he could rely on and trust in matches left their imprints. And when they days of the period came to an end, a goodbye and apology they never sent.”

 

Bokuto sucked in a shaky breath as he took in each word that tumbled out of cracked, chapped lips. He found his hands shaking, his knees quaking, his breath falling short.

“Akaashi-“

 

“The boy needed a change. He left his home. Four empty walls. When he met another, it was spring. He ran from a season to the next, unaware that flowers blossomed. With time, the opening of petals, he found friendship, companionship and security- someone so different but simple and accepting and before the cold winter, he had to curb the fire, the dying flower. So he ran.”

 

Bokuto swallowed the lump that had been building in his throat. Blinking away the glossy blurriness in his vision, he inhaled sharply.

 

“Akaashi... I- I…”

 

Akaashi laughed dryly.

 

“You’re disgusted, aren’t you? A messed up person liking you. Please just go and never come back. You came to get an answer. Now that you have it, mock me. If you’d like you could even just take me and discard me. I… I was born to be used. I’m.. I’m nothing,” Akaashi’s voice broke, a fresh wave of tears welling in his dark lashes.

 

Bokuto’s heart lurched in his throat. He was momentarily struck by a wave of nausea. Was that how Akaashi had depicted himself to be? To be someone so cheap and worthless when he was everything? A mix of anger, anguish and pain struck him. It morphed into fresh, hot determination. He clutched onto his heart, taking steady strides towards the trembling ball.

 

“Akaashi Keiji… You listen up. I… I’m not the brightest person on Earth. I’m not Albert Einstein or Kuroo, that geek and my literary skills are awful but… What you said.. I get most of it. You…Don’t. Don’t you ever bring yourself down like this, Akaashi. You.. You’re so much more. And I mean it. You say it as though you know me but if you’re thinking that I’m one of those fuckers who would do such an inhumane and cruel act to you, you have so much more to learn about me. Akaashi… Listen to every word I have to say. I’ll say it time and again if I have to. You… You changed my life. In an amazing way. Before I got to know you, my life was pretty down. No one copes with my mood swings like you do and you tolerate me even when I’m at my very worst. I fall hard when I’m rejected but you forced yourself to make my day better through simple gestures. Those days you shared your bento boxes with me when you agreed to have lunch with me. Those times I went into my emo mood after getting a spike blocked and you just told me ‘let’s get the next one’. You don’t always say much but you listen to my worries, my fears and you are amazing and so beautiful. I… Heck, I actually love you. Your entirety. Your imperfections, flaws, beauty, grace, experience- You’re beautiful.”

 

A choked sob.

 

Bokuto squatted, tugging Akaashi gently into his chest. Tears soaked through his shirt. His heart wrenched. Quivering fingers clasped the hem of his shirt. Akaashi satred into Bokuto’s eyes, soft, broken cries leaving parted lips.

 

“Why?”

 

Bokuto smiled tenderly, raising a hand to brush the tears away from Akaashi’s cheeks.

 

 

“Every flower must go through dirt. Where flowers bloom, so does hope.”


End file.
